I Am The Pumpkin King
by Amp
Summary: I've always wondered what Jack was like before he became undead. So, here's a story about his rise, or descent, whichever way you look at it, to Pumpkin King. Recently edited. Hope everyone's had fun! R&R!
1. Chapter 1 A Kiss For Jack Frost

I Am The Pumpkin King  
  
Chapter One: A Kiss for Jack Frost  
  
A chill winter breeze swept through the street outside of the Skellington residence, bringing with it a breath of snow. A small face pressed against one of the windows of the house, gazing out with excited eyes at the dancing flakes swirling past the pane.  
  
"Snow!" squeaked an excited voice. "It's about time!"  
  
Amelia was the youngest of the Skellington house, being six, and had been awaiting the frozen bounty which the heavens had to offer eagerly since November. It had been uncommonly warm this year, and only now, mid- December already, was the snow coming. But, supposed Amelia, the wait made it all the more worth it. The snow would be that much fluffier and that much more fun for waiting so long. She let out a happy giggle, her warm breath steaming the frigid pane. She took a moment to press her lips against the glass, leaving a little kiss for Jack Frost to find.  
  
As visions of snow angels and snow men danced in her head, the little girl turned from her place at the window and raced out of the room. Surely, she thought, her older brother would be happy to know about this! Amelia lifted her heavy wool dress a bit and pattered quickly up the staircase in a flurry of two-toned boots and black stockings, bouncing into the hallway with a flounce of her dark curls and taffeta bows.  
  
Making her way toward her big brother's door, she recalled last winter when the two would spend hour after hour playing in the snow. They made snow castles and declared snowball fights; most of which, Amelia was sure, he had let her win. Together they made a whole snow person family, with a big Daddy snow man, a middle-sized Mommy snow man, and two little snow children. Amelia also insisted upon a cat, which her brother readily made for her. Forgetting completely about her older sibling's request to knock before she entered his room, being far too engulfed in the joy of proper winter weather, Amelia flung open his door, red cheeked and grinning from ear to ear.  
  
"Jack!" she declared, her quavering little voice scarcely able to contain her excitement. "It's snowing!"  
  
Seated at a desk in the room was a young man, quite lanky and dressed smartly in a well-fitting suit of coal-black and white pinstripes. His hair was dark and well kempt, the dark brown matching his eyes. He gave the impression of a gawky youth, whose bulk had not quite caught up with his height. Turning to the little girl, he smiled, a smile that Amelia always thought looked a little funny, but friendly nonetheless, his dark eyes twinkling in the soft gas lamp light that filled the room. Forgiving her for the intrusion, Jack set down his pen and held his arms out for his little sister, who happily leapt into them, throwing her own arms around her older brother's shoulders. "Is it!" he laughed, embracing her. "That's marvelous! I was begining to wonder if we were going to have any this year."  
  
Looking up into her brother's face, blue eyes twinkling like a pair of sapphires caught in starlight, she managed to overcome the excitement caught in her throat and squeaked out, "We can make snow men, can't we? Like last year? And another snow fort, right? Let's make two and we can have a snow war!"  
  
"We'll do all those things," Jack chuckled, tapping her on her nose. "Just be patient. I'll tell you what. Until the snow builds up, let's make a little storm in here, shall we?" The young man set his little sister down, turning back to his desk and drawing out two sheets of paper and two pairs of scissors to go along with them. Handing a piece of paper and a pair of scissors to his sister, he smiled and held up his own sheet. "Fold it like this," he said, demonstrating, "and then start to cut along the edges." Jack did so in a flourish of silver snippets before opening the paper again and revealing an intricate snowflake.  
  
Letting out a squeal of glee, Amelia quickly folded her own paper, snipping away joyfully.  
  
Sitting back and smiling, Jack turned his gaze to the windows, already edging with frost. He let his eyes wander across the skeletal trees dotting the landscape, their bony branches stretching into the starless sky. His gaze relaxed, the trees and snow becoming a pleasant blur of glittering darkness.  
  
Their house was an ideal location for a growing child, with town not too far away from to walk to school, but close enough to the woods to play and explore away many a warm spring hour. Jack had lived here as long as he could remember, spending much of his childhood building tree forts with his friends, going on long hikes or playing in the schoolyard. His parents weren't rich, but they could afford to live quite comfortably, and Jack loved them both dearly. Amelia, too, was a joy to have around. He couldn't have possibly hoped for a better sister. The bubbly little ray of sunshine never failed to cheer the young man up, and she was a welcome distraction from his studies.  
  
Jack started suddenly.  
  
Amelia glanced up at her brother from her snowflake. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing, I...just thought I saw something in the woods."  
  
"What was it?"  
  
"It's...it's nothing. Never you mind." Jack smiled back to his sister. "Let's see your snowflake."  
  
Outside, nestled among the cold, wet, crumbly bark of the naked winter trees, someone smiled. 


	2. Chapter 2 The King Is Undead Long Live ...

Okay, folks, I forgot to put the disclaimer on this last time, so here it is. The Nightmare Before Christmas and all the characters from it don't belong to me. They were spawned from the dark, twisted and extremely creative mind of Mr. Tim Burton. However, Amelia, Jack's parents and any other characters I choose to toss in belong to me.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
The King is Undead. Long Live the King.  
  
One Week Earlier  
  
Autumn wind carried the scent of overripe pumpkins and the sickly sweet smell of rotting jack-o-lanterns through Halloweentown and into Sally's room. The ragdoll girl smiled, a dead leaf carried with the fragrant air which she plucked up quickly as it tumbled by her.  
  
Red. It wasn't often she found colored leaves. Rising from her seat on the bed, the young creation of Dr. Finklestein crossed the room to her small project. On a table rested a little artificial tree, carved by Sally herself, quite painstakingly. To a few of the delicate little branches were attached leaves she'd collected at one point or another, each a lovely shade of red, yellow or orange. Finding such leaves was a rare thing indeed, and this carmine beauty would make a perfect addition.  
  
Leaving the laboratory was something that was almost unheard of for Sally. Dr. Finklestein didn't find it at all neccessary save collecting herbs for cooking. Even then, her ventures into Halloweentown were quite brief. Sally's entire universe seemed to be her room, and it drove her nearly to distraction at times. The little tree helped to pacify her longing for the outside world.  
  
The ragdoll lifted the lid of her sewing kit, also resting on the table, and selected from it a delicate thread of spider's silk. Her slender fingers moved deftly, carefully and securely tying the leaf to one of the needle-thick twigs. "You're almost done," she cooed in her reed- thin voice. "I'm sorry I haven't filled you out, but there just aren't very many colored leaves anymore." She turned her gaze out the window again, the wind howling like a sorrowful ghost. The mansion of the Pumpkin King loomed in the distance and the redhead felt a tug at her heart. "I think," she whispered, "that that's why."  
  
Dr. Finklestein never told Sally very much about what went on outside of the laboratory, but now and then he would have visitors. It was happening now a good deal more often than it did normally, and though Sally wasn't entirely sure why, she had a feeling it was something to do with the current Pumpkin King.  
  
The Mayor was coming by nearly every day, and when she could listen in on their conversations, the ragdoll girl would catch snippets of the frantic dignitary pleading with the doctor about the King's health. Again and again, Sally's creator told the Mayor there was nothing he could do. For the King, Final Death, whatever that was, was inevitable. There were a few times when the Mayor even asked if the doctor could make a new King, like he had made Sally. The possibility of another creature like her in the laboratory had made Sally's patchwork heart flutter with excitement, but this only elicited a stern no or riotous laughter from the part of Finklestein.  
  
No, no, that would never do. Finklestein could help the Pumpkin King along on his way to the lofty position, but he couldn't simply be stitched together the way Sally had been. They would have to find another way to fill the soon-to-be empty throne. And the sooner the better. Without a reigning Pumpkin King, Halloweentown would surely fall into an unhealthy level of decay, or, even worse, could possibly cease to exist. Finklestein then went off on a rambling lecture on a keystone theory of sorts. The King served as the keystone for the existence of Halloween. He was what supported and held things together, and without him, everything would crumble.  
  
That thought had settled comfortably into the back of Sally's mind and became a very heavy burden there. Everything crumbling? The whole world going the way of the King? She hadn't gotten a chance to really see it yet! It couldn't go now! She barely knew the area around the laboratory, let alone Halloweentown itself. Her eyes fell back to her tree. Was this the closest she'd get to the outside world? It gave her a sick feeling deep inside.  
  
There was a sudden bang from below and Sally whirled around, eyes lighting up as she heard the Mayor's voice booming through the laboratory. Stealing quickly and quietly to her door she opened it a tiny crack and peered through eagerly. Any news about the King's well being took top priority.  
  
When she had first seen him, the Mayor had given Sally a bit of a start. His revolving faces were just a bit on the creepy side, even for her. Currently, though, he was all smiles. In one pudgy hand he clutched a rolled up sheet of yellowed paper. Curious, Sally dared to take another step, crouching halfway out of her door.  
  
"Doctor? Dr. Finklestein?" boomed the Mayor, looking joyous, his rotund form quivering with glee. "We've found the solution!"  
  
The ragdoll almost cried out in relief, but caught the noise before it slipped past her lips. Instead, she kept an attentive eye on the parchment the official was waving about. She jumped slightly as she heard her creator's voice, rough and creaking, respond to the commotion the Mayor was making. "Have you?" inquired the scientist, wheeling into the main room to greet his guest. "Well, by all means, then, let's hear it!" Sally pressed close against her door and bit her lower lip. The girl could never catch Finklestein's gaze from behind his dark glasses, and this always unnerved her just a bit. There would be very little warning if she caught his eye, and the retribution for it would be swift and painful. Finklestein knew that the easiest and most effective way to get to his creation was to pull on her heart strings. Guilt trips were the doctor's specialty, and he had grown quite good at dispensing them. Trying to push it out of her mind, Finklestein's creation could almost feel her stitches ache with anticipation over the clearly good news the Mayor bore.  
  
With great gusto, the Mayor unfurled the parchment, revealing row after row of spidery scrawlings and various diagrams and charts. "It's been so long since we've had to crown a new Pumpkin King, we'd forgotten everything that had to go along with it. You were certainly right, though. A King stitched from parts of dead bodies would never do. Why, the results would be disasterous! Imagine if someone like your creation ruled Halloweentown!" Sally felt a stab of indignation, but kept her mouth shut. "After some extensive searching through the town libraries and the hall of records, we were able to find the documents detailing the Pumpkin King coronation. We won't be able to crown anyone in Halloweentown."  
  
The girl's heart leapt to her throat. No one here fit to be King? It couldn't be! Surely there was someone worthy of the crown. This was terrible news! Why was he so happy? Swallowing the questions that came to her mouth, Sally listened carefully.  
  
"You see, Halloween is a sort of living thing, if you will. More accurately, it's a spirit. Halloweentown is simply one of the many physical manifestations of that spirit. The same goes for you and I and everyone else in our world. Every few millenia, the spirit needs nourishment in the form of a mortal sacrifice of sorts. In short, we need to bring a mortal here and kill him. As his life force feeds the Halloween spirit, he in turn is filled with the new power it creates, becoming the Pumpkin King." The Mayor snapped the parchment back into a tight roll. "So, all we need to do is fetch ourselves a proper mortal! It's that simple!" With this, the Mayor leaned forward slightly, eyeing the doctor. "Might you have any idea how we could go about finding one?"  
  
Finklestein nodded and rubbed his "chin" thoughtfully. "You'd need to enter the mortal world," he said slowly. "I don't have a great deal of experience there, and very little knowledge about it. If you truly want someone who has had a lot of time dealing with humans, I would go to Oogie Boogie. He likes to haunt the children's dreams and frighten them from under their beds and in their closets. If anyone would know where to find a proper sacrifice, it would be him."  
  
The Mayor's head spun, his decidedly less cheery side facing forward. Sally couldn't help but feel a chill tingle up her spine at this. "Are you sure that's the best way?" he asked, chewing his lower lip a little nervously. "I mean, Oogie Boogie is...a bit of an unsavory character..."  
  
Dr. Finklestein waved a hand and fixed his gaze on the official. "We both know that Halloweentown and Halloween itself won't last long without a King. The longer we delay, the more peril we put our home in. Oogie Boogie may not be your first choice in helping to select the new King, but he's your best bet in finding a mortal and we both know he'll get the job done. I don't like it any more than you do, Mr. Mayor, however wasting away to nothing is a much less pleasant option."  
  
"Well, all right," the Mayor said, still looking uncertain. His head twirled again, beaming a happy smile at the doctor. "I'll let the council know immediately and we'll get right on it!" His business finished, the pudgy man scuttled quickly out the door.  
  
Silently, the patchwork girl that had been listening in on the conversation slipped back into her room, closing the door behind her. Mixed feelings swirled dizzyingly through Sally's mind. On the one hand, her heart rejoiced that there would be a new Pumpkin King and Halloweentown would not fall into ruin. But on the other... Her gaze moved to the window, fixing itself on the towers and turrets of the King's mansion. Somehow, sacrificing anyone, mortal (whatever that was) or no for all of this just seemed somehow wrong. Trying to distract herself from the confusion, Sally went back to her tree, running her slender fingers through it's fiery leaves. 


	3. Chapter 3 Snow Dreams And Bug Bites

Chapter 3  
  
Snow Dreams And Bug Bites  
  
Amelia woke that morning with her heart thrilling. For a moment, she forgot completely why she was so excited, but upon laying eyes on the paper snowflakes festooning her room, the night before came back to her in a flood of happiness.  
  
"That's right!" exclaimed the little girl, throwing back her covers and hopping out of bed, nightgown fluttering. She shivered a bit as her feet touched the frigid wooden floor before dropping to her knees and fishing her slippers out from under her bed. Amelia pushed her feet into them quickly and padded up to the window. Jack Frost had returned her kisses from last night, little "flowers" of frost exploding across her window; the early morning light that shone through them casting crystalline reflections on the floor. Almost hating to do it, the little girl pressed her hand up against the window, the warmth of it melting away the frost flowers. Pulling her hand back, she peered through the blurry spot she'd made, the landscape outside causing her to catch her breath.  
  
Everything looked as though it was covered in a thick layer of white icing. Their lawn was now a glittering expanse of white interrupted only by the occasional mound where the hedges and bushes slept under their blanket of snow. Everything was perfect. Smooth, white and almost uninterrupted. It was the time that Amelia loved most after a snow. The whole world seemed clean and unmarred, completely cleansed.  
  
Eager to play in the newly fallen snow, Amelia quickly changed out of her nightgown, pulling on a wool dress and her thickest pair of stockings along with her usual two-tone boots. Not wanting to take the time to brush her hair, the girl snatched up her knit beret and pushed her dark curls up into it. There was no time to be ladylike when snow was involved.  
  
Taking the stairs two at a time, the little girl made her way to the first floor of the house, beaming with joy. Her mother and father were sitting in the parlor, sharing their morning tea and chatting quietly, and Jack was at the door, buttoning up his winter coat, a hat perched a bit crookedly on his head. The young man was quickly tackled by his little sister, staggering a bit and laughing as she wrapped her arms around his knees. "Well, hello! That was quite the enthusiastic greeting!" he chuckled, adjusting his hat. "How is my little snow angel?"  
  
Amelia blushed at the nickname. "I'm good! Can we go play, Jack? Pleeeeeeease?"  
  
Her older brother pulled his face into a theatric version of thoughtfulness. "Weeeell," he drawled over dramatically, "I don't know. Mother and father wanted me to shovel the walkway..."  
  
"Oh, come on Jack!" Amelia pleaded, tugging at the hem of his coat. "You promised you'd play with me! You promised you'd do the things we did last year!"  
  
Jack's face changed to a smile and he snapped his fingers. "So I did! Well, I'm not one to break my promises and I'm sure that they won't mind me building a snowman or two before I clear the walkway." Amelia flashed a smile at her brother before tugging more persistantly at his coat and heading out the door, chattering excitedly. The young man couldn't help but smile a little. His sister's good mood was positively contagious, and he could feel himself warming on the inside despite the chill weather. "Let's get you bundled up before we head out, hm? It's quite cold out there," he said, pulling Amelia's coat from the rack and holding it out for her. After a few moments of coats and scarves and mittens and gloves, the two were ready to venture out in the winter wonderland that had formed overnight.  
  
Amelia's older brother was almost as breathtaken as she was at the scene before him. The lawn was a carpet of glimmering whiteness, and the once black, skeletal trees had been fleshed out by the snow, their white arms reaching to the overcast sky. Here and there he could see cardinals perched on their branches, some calling out in the crisp morning air while in the distance he could hear the jingle of harness bells from someone's sleigh. Mornings like this, Jack reflected with a fond smile, were what made winter his favorite season.  
  
For a moment, Jack's sister simply stared in awe at the scene before her, much like her brother did, but soon excitement bubbled over in her and with a yell she plunged forward into the lawn, sinking nearly to her knees in the snow. Undaunted by the depth, she thrust her mitten-covered hands into the white bounty before her, drawing back a mound of snow which she quickly packed into a ball. Grinning mischeviously, the little girl whipped around and hurled the snowball at her older brother. The projectile exploded against his dark winter coat with a satisfying "piff", resulting in an exaggerated look of shock on the face of Jack.  
  
"Why, Amelia!" he said with a grin, "I do belive that's a declaration of war!" The youth reached down and snatched up a handful of snow himself, tossing it at his little sister. She let out a happy squeal as it connected with her shoulder and the two began a heated battle. The air sang with powdery white bombs and gleeful laughter, the simple pleasures of a winter day taking both combatants. In his red-cheeked zeal, eyes locked on his sister, Jack didn't notice the little creature he picked up in a handful of snow. It made it's presence known quite quickly, though.  
  
"OW!"  
  
Amelia stopped in mid wind-up, looking worriedly to Jack. She may have been throwing her snowballs as hard as she could, but she didn't think she'd been throwing them hard enough to hurt her brother. "Jack?" she squeaked, her blue eyes growing large with concern and guilt. "Oh my, did I hurt you? I'm so sorry!"  
  
"N-No! No, it wasn't you, Amelia. It...it was something in the snow..." Jack quickly shook out his hand, dropping the snow, and almost leapt clear out of his skin as it hit the ground.  
  
Upon bursting on a cleared bit of the walkway, the broken snowball freed what was unmistakably a very large insect. It looked like a beetle, but it's enormous mandibles and unnatural color told the young man it was nothing that should have been wandering around in the snow. Or even in this area, for that matter. The only place he'd ever seen an insect that looked remotely like it was in his books and encyclopedia entries concerning animals of faraway jungles and forests. Whatever it was, he thought as he freed his hand from his glove and examined it, it certainly packed a lot of power behind it's jaws. The insect had not only pierced clear through his leather glove, but had also drawn blood. Not a worrysome amount, but the bite still stung horribly.  
  
The boy was so mesmerized by the stinging pain and the simple fact that a mere insect had bitten through leather, he hadn't noticed his sister's crunching steps across the snow as she hurried to his side. Spying his hand, she let out a sharp gasp. "Jack! You're bleeding!" she cried. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine," he mumbled a bit thickly, shaking out his hand again as if it would disperse the pain. Instead, the stinging spread through his hand and up his arm, making them feel numb and heavy. The world seemed to tilt ever so slightly and Jack staggered to try and catch up with its movement. His head felt foggy and his vision and hearing quickly followed it, the snow appearing to rise up and engulf everything in a cloud of white. From some far off corner of the Earth, he thought he could hear Amelia calling out to him, but her voice, like everything else, faded to white.  
  
When the world returned to him, Jack found himself not in his lawn, or even his home, but instead in a forest. For a moment he thought it was the forest that surrounded his house, but this one wasn't full of snow. Instead, it was occupied with trees that seemed to be in the throes of October, their branches bare or hung sparsely with dry, brown leaves. He realized he was laying on the ground, his fingers gloveless and digging into loose dirt or crumbling a handful of the brittle, dead leaves that carpeted the forest floor. Not wanting to tempt passing out, the young man sat up slowly, breathing deep of the fragrant autumn air. All around him were the smells of things dying and decaying, their pungent scents almost overwhelming.  
  
Jack managed to get to his feet, still feeling slightly light headed and quite confused about his current surroundings. He was no longer dressed in his heavy winter clothes, but was clad in his suit of coal black and white pinstripes. Now, why on Earth was he wearing that? Had someone re-dressed him while he was passed out and moved him to this foreign wood? Was the insect bite causing him to hallucinate? Peering at his hand, the young man found the injury had mysteriously vanished, his skin smooth and unmarred. A crisp wind howled suddenly through the trees, shaking free a few of the leaves that still clung to the branches and bringing Jack back to the present. Wrapping his arms around himself, he did the only thing he could really think of doing. He began to walk.  
  
As he walked through the wood, seeing no break in the trees as far as he looked, Jack began to try and figure out what had happened, exactly. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't seem to come up with anything rational. Had he become like Rip Van Winkle, falling asleep for years and years and then waking again to some autumn in the future? No, that didn't make sense. No one could sleep that long and live. And if he had, surely Amelia would have had their parents bring him into the house at least. Perhaps he had been sleepwalking and had gone right out of the house and into the nearby woods. But that didn't make sense either. Why would he fall asleep in his suit? And when he was awake last, he was sure that it was the middle of December, not October. More sinister possibilities began to enter his mind. Maybe what he thought was his life was really a dream, and this was the real world. Suppose Amelia, his parents, the house and everything else were just some happy dream he was having while he slept in the woods and now he had finally woken from it. But then why couldn't he remember anything from before it? Jack stopped suddenly as yet another possible situation entered his head.  
  
What if he was dead?  
  
What if that insect was extremely poisonous and had killed him with its bite?  
  
What if everything he'd been told about Heaven and Hell was a lie and this was really what the afterlife was like?  
  
The thought sent a chill down Jack's spine and he quickly felt his pulse. It still thrummed away rhythmically under his fingers. His lungs still pumped air in and out of him. If he was dead, then death was much more alive than Jack had thought it would be.  
  
Sighing, feeling even more confused about his situation, and now becoming quite cold, Jack stopped in his journey and hugged himself, rubbing his arms vigorously. What was going on? Why was he here? Where was "here," for that matter? Quite suddenly another wind kicked up, this one much stronger than the first. Jack huddled against a tree for some sort of shelter, his fingers clutching it's crumbling, dry bark.  
  
Loose dirt and twigs snapped across his exposed skin like miniature bullets, and the branches of the trees bent and twisted, seeming to come to life. They reached down, scratching and gripping at him like bony fingers, catching on his clothing and tearing at his skin, pulling him into some strange embrace. The young man let out a shout of frustration and fright, struggling to free himself from the tangle of branches that ensnared him and held him fast to the trunk of the tree. Along with the stinging branches and freezing wind that buffeted him, Jack could begin to feel tiny, ticklings and scratchings prickling at his hands and going up his arms. Daring to open his eyes to see what this new assault was, a strangled cry of horror escaped him.  
  
Insects. All of unnatural colors and shapes, similar to the one that bit him, were swarming out of the carpet of leaves on the ground and scrambling up the trunk of the tree to work their way into his sleeves or up his pantlegs. He could feel them scrabbling across his skin under his clothing, invading every inch of him.  
  
But what truly terrified him, what chilled Jack down to his marrow, was a laugh that was carried into the woods by the wind. It was soft at first, but it gradually crescendoed, deep and booming and ringing in his head like the peal of a bell. There was something wrong with it. Something frightening in it that seemed to call to a long forgotten or buried fear that originated somewhere in the past and kept him up at night, violating his dreams and curling clammy, evil fingers out from the shadows of his room.  
  
This was Hell. This was torture. It couldn't be true, he positively refused to believe it. This wasn't happening.  
  
Jack threw his head back and screamed to the branches, to the trees, to the dull, overcast sky. To anyone and anything within earshot. "MOTHER! FATHER! AMELIA! HELP ME!"  
  
And suddenly it all fell away. The whole of the forest dropped away from him as easily as if it were a curtain being pulled back, and he found himself sitting up on a sofa in the parlor, his heart beating like a drum and cold, wet snow and sweat trickling in rivulets down his face. Between gasping breaths, Jack looked about to see his parents and Amelia standing around him and eyeing him with worried gazes. His little sister in particular looked very concerned, snow still caked on her coat, shoes and stockings.  
  
His father spoke first. "Jack...are you all right? Amelia said you picked up something in the snow that drew blood and then you passed out."  
  
"It was some sort of insect," the young man said, looking to his hand to find the mark where he'd been bitten was circled with dry blood. "It bit me. I think maybe it just took me by surprise and I stood up to fast."  
  
"An insect this late into winter?" questioned Mr. Skellington, looking a little surprised.  
  
"Something like that," Jack mumbled, running a hand through his damp hair. He got up carefully. "I'm going up to my room to get this bandaged. I'll be back down in a bit."  
  
He turned and left the parlor without another word, heading up the stairs, taking extra care with his steps. Amelia watched him leave, a nagging suspicion in the back of her mind telling her something was very wrong with her brother. Trying to ignore it, the little girl sighed and pulled of her wet mittens, plodding off to the kitchen to get her breakfast. 


	4. Chapter 4 A Bogey Man's Delight

Before I start this chapter, I'd just really like to thank everyone for the feedback that you've given me. I really appreciate the time you're taking and I hope that I can continue to write fics worthy of reading. Have a nice day, everyone! Now, on with the show!  
  
Chapter 4  
  
A Bogey Man's Delight  
  
Oogie Boogie could not have been more pleased with himself.  
  
The monster grinned wickedly as he lumbered back toward his lair, running his deeds over again in his mind with fiendish glee. He reflected with satisfaction on the council's choice of him to find a proper sacrifice to be the new Pumpkin King. The reason was not for the supposed honor that came with it, gracious no! Oogie Boogie didn't give two whoops in an open grave about honor. It was the uncomfortable looks of the council and the Mayor that gave him that truly warm and fuzzy feeling inside. It was the fact that they were forced to divulge such sensitive information to him, the most unsavory and undesireable citizen of Halloweentown. It was the fact that they had to make themselves out to be hypocrites. That was the real reward.  
  
Boogie had, for his behavior and downright cruel treatment of children, become a social pariah among the Halloweentown populous. Due to his outrageous and unforgiveable "torture", the bogey man was forced out of the town to live in seclusion. The well of bitterness that had grown over the years because of this decision only made his attacks on children that much more vicious. He soon found himself spending more time in the world of mortals than in the world of spirits and ghouls. In his home land, he was reguarded with apprehension, but without respect. In the mortal world, however, he was a veritable God of Terror. There wasn't a child who hadn't at one point in their life cowered in fear under the covers of their bed in the dead of night at the thought of Oogie Boogie getting them. He had an intimate knowledge of how to put the kind of fear into humanity that no one else in Halloweentown dared to.  
  
And it was that knowledge, that relation with humanity no matter how grim it might have been, the one that they forced him to acquire, that they needed now. The very thought of them having to crawl back to him and beg for his help tickled the villainous ghoul pink.  
  
He had had a great deal of fun letting the council and especially the Mayor dangle and writhe, practically on their knees pleading for his help. In the end, naturally, he agreed. After all, if Halloween crumbled, so did he. Of course, it was easy to make them believe otherwise. Drama was a specialty of Boogie's, and making them believe that he was beyond caring about his own un-life what with his agonizing seclusion only made them more eager to sweeten the deal. Along with completely remodeling his lair to the casino theme of his desires, they gave him what he considered a treasure of new insects whose uses ranged from discreet and effective spies to tasty midnight snacks.  
  
His new assets secured, Oogie Boogie assured the officials that he would get them their mortal, but his methods might be a bit unorthodox. They understood completely, or at least said they did, and allowed him to dip into any neccessary resources to make the capture. Boogie thanked them and told them that he most likely wouldn't need much more than what he already had before sending them on their way.  
  
But, he thought with a smirk as he entered his macabre abode, why simply catch the squirt when he could get the job done and have a little fun with it? These stuffy politicians didn't know what went into capturing a human, and they had allowed him total freedom over how it was to be orchestrated. And in any case, how marvelous would it be to know that deep down inside, the supposed future King of Frights had at one time cowered before you in terror? A great deal too marvelous for this particular bogey man to pass up!  
  
First, he needed to select a victim.  
  
Selection had proved to be the most difficult part of this mission, for there were so many people to choose from! The spectrum of possibilities seemed endless, even with the restrictions the council gave him.  
  
They wanted a mortal that was young, but not a child. It needed to have the maturity neccessary to bear the crown of their monarch, but at the same time, the human couldn't be too old, either. To get the most out of the sacrifice, it needed to be young enough to still exude great life force. The better they fed Halloween, the longer they could go without having to make another sacrifice, and the better supported the populous would be. So, Boogie decided on catching someone in their mid-teens to early-twenties. But this still left virtually hundreds of thousands of selections.  
  
Also, they wanted their new King to have some sort of inborn regal bearing. A nobility that could only come naturally. Not neccessarily human royalty, indeed the abduction of an important mortal political figure somehow struck the council as a bad idea, but someone who seemed to convey the finer points of a noble. Another request was to find someone who had a reasonable amount of imagination and intelligence. Wit, too, would be a definate plus, and it wouldn't hurt at all if he were dapper and charming. Being able to work and care for people would be a neccessity, as would some basic leadership skills.  
  
But even all of these guidelines still left the monster with a very broad field from which to choose, so he decided to take a look around and see what he could find.  
  
The next few days were a delightful little run of haunting closets, invading dreams and peeking out from under beds to discover this new plaything. Half the time he wasn't really even trying, but the council didn't need to know that. Being able to do this sort of thing with the politician's approval just made it all the more enjoyable. And in the end, he found his victim quite by accident.  
  
There was a charming little Victorian village that Oogie terrorized now and then, and he decided he'd drop by for a little break from a long day of haunts. After all, scaring for the council and scaring for himself were two very different things. As an artist, a true master in the field of fright, he needed to spread his wings on his own personal projects now and then. The fiend's usual way of entering the mortal world would be to come through a closet or out from under a bed. Recently, the council had showed him several other entrance ways through graveyards or certain trees, but for the moment he decided to take his traditional route.  
  
Stepping out of a closet full of silky dresses and lacy slips, the bogey man found himself in a little girl's room. The wallpapering was pink and speckled with white rabbits, stuffed animals and dolls lined the shelves that clung to the walls, and under a frilly bedspread was a little lump that owned a headful of dark curls resting on a lace-edged pillow. A sinister smile tugged at his burlap face as he crept toward the sleeping child. It was just too easy to resist. Like a wolf stalking a lamb, he lumbered toward the little bed to take his prey.  
  
A noise!  
  
A bit irate at his interuption, but not wanting to get caught before he could have a little fun, the ghoul slipped quickly and silently back to the closet, peering out of a crack from the door.  
  
Oblivious to the threat in the room, the door opened and in walked in a lanky youth in a pinstripe suit with dark hair. Oogie narrowed his eyes, watching him closely. He seemed to be in his late teens and was quite tall, but still rather skinny. His dark eyes glittered even in the darkness as he came to the girl's bedside. An older brother checking on his younger sibling, perhaps? The boy confirmed Oogie Boogie's guess, kneeling and brushing some hair out of the girl's face before adjusting her covers a bit and standing again with a bit of a goofy smile. He then turned and left, closing the door gently behind him.  
  
For a moment the visitor from Halloweentown glared at the closed door. Getting a good fright out of this little girl now seemed doubtful. If she called out in her sleep or thrashed around, her brother was likely to return and end the game. The burlap-covered monstrosity grumbled in annoyance under his breath for a moment before pausing and thinking the situation over. He'd come here to take a little break, but he could have quite possibly stumbled on something important to his mission.  
  
Mr. Pinstripe Suit seemed to be in the target age group, and it was clear that he cared for his sister. The council had said they wanted someone who cared, hadn't they? Chewing thoughtfully on a bug, the bogey man decided that perhaps this wasn't such a bust after all. Slipping through the closet again, Oogie Boogie decided that he'd keep an eye on the young man.  
  
He soon found that this human was exactly what he'd been looking for.  
  
Over the course of the next few days, the council's scout examined this candidate carefully. Boogie watched his interaction with his family and friends as well as his rigorous study habits. The youth was also well- versed in etiquette and carried himself with a regal air that betrayed his gawky looks. In the end, though, what really cinched it was the boy's name.  
  
Jack Skellington.  
  
Oogie almost burst a stitch when he discovered it.  
  
The mortal was perfect.  
  
He had found Halloweentown's next King.  
  
Now came the fun part. Now came the nightmares.  
  
Seeing Jack playing in the snow with his sister presented a fine opportunity for the horror to begin, so the mortal's soon-to-be abductor sent one of his bugs to join the game. The results couldn't have been better.  
  
As the bogey man settled into his lair, he lifted a handful of his new bugs and stuffed them into his cavernous mouth, smacking his lips in a satisfied way. Blurring the lines of reality and fantasy was a favorite method of his to instill fear into his victims, and this one seemed particularly sensitive to it. The monster grinned. By the time he was done, Mr. Pumpkin- King-To-Be would be a nervous wreck. 


	5. Chapter 5 Your Infestation Does Not Scar...

Chapter 5  
  
Your Infestation Does Not Scare Me  
  
Jack stared at his bandaged hand as he headed back downstairs. His mind was still plagued by the echoes of his nightmare, and the youth could almost swear he could feel the evil little creatures scrambling over his skin. It was such a strange dream; very unlike anything he'd ever imagined before. He honestly didn't mind insects, and had never pictured them being so frightening. Nor had he ever thought the woods could take on such terrifying qualities. The only time he'd ever felt unsafe in any forest was in the dead of night. In the woods, night didn't settle in from the sky, or sort of roll in and embrace you like it did in a field or on the beach. Instead, it seemed to creep in on you from amongst the trees, reaching out to get you when you weren't looking.  
  
The dream had also brought up a fear that hadn't touched the boy in an extremely long time. He'd spent the last half hour or so trying to place it. Jack knew he'd felt it somewhere before...somewhere in his chidhood. It summoned up memories of nights where his nervousness clasped his mind with cruel claws, robbing him of sleep. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, staring at his hand, the name of his childhood tormentor suddenly dawned on him.  
  
"The bogey man...?"  
  
It almost made him laugh aloud. He was scared of the bogey man? Now? At his age? Ridiculous. But he couldn't shake that feeling inside. That laugh again...that horrible, chilling laugh.  
  
"Jack!"  
  
The youth started slightly and blinked down owlishly into the big, blue eyes gazing up at him with concern. Amelia was biting her lip slightly and her sweet face was screwed up into an expression of worry that was heartbreaking to look at; her lips trembled and she looked on the verge of tears. "Are you going to be all right?" she managed in a quavering whisper.  
  
"Oh, Amelia," sighed the girl's older sibling, dropping to one knee and wrapping his long arms around her. "Of course. It was just a little insect bite."  
  
"B-But you fainted!" she cried, choking back a sob and blinking back tears. "You were thrashing and making faces, and you called out in your sleep! You called for Mommy and Daddy and me." She sniffled and buried her face in his shoulder, trying very hard not to cry.  
  
"Don't worry, darling, I was just having a nightmare," he told her, stroking her tangled curls. "Just a bad dream, but it's over now, all right?"  
  
Amelia nodded, stepping back and rubbing her eyes. She offered him a smile which he returned, and the little girl felt a bit of the weight resting on her heart lift. Jack was all right after all. Nothing wrong with him. She'd just been nervous. Her brother was big and strong, and it was dumb to think that something as trivial as an insect bite could really hurt him. It was Amelia's firm belief, as it is every child's, that next to her father, her brother was the strongest person in the world.  
  
"We're going to get the Christmas tree today!" she said cheerfully, completely forgetting her tears. "Daddy says he knows where there's a nice little patch of evergreens that are just the right size!"  
  
"Really!" Amelia's older sibling exclaimed with a grin. "Well, I just can't wait! I think it's your turn to pick the tree out this year!"  
  
The young girl bounced on the balls of her feet looking even more excited, if it was possible. Her joyful attitude never failed to heal Jack, and this time was no exception. Any echoes of the laughter in the woods escaped the boy's mind and he followed his sister toward the kitchen. Both were immediately engulfed in the thick, spicy scent of baking gingerbread. A tradition at this time of year in the Skellington house was the baking of gingerbread men; something that never failed to delight the younger members of the residence.  
  
Amelia peeked her face up over the edge of the table, watching as her mother rolled out the thick, brown dough into an even, fragrant sheet and proceeded to push the shaped cutter into it. She could only remember a few Christmases, but those she did always included this ritual. Normally, their maid, Elly, did the cooking and baking. At the moment, however, she was on her Christmas vacation, visiting her family. Their mother didn't seem to mind too much, though. At this time of year, she felt it more appropriate to put her own loving work into what her family ate. Amelia looked up to her brother and found him discreetly sneaking a taste of mollasses. He caught her gaze and gave her a wink, which made his sister giggle. Mrs. Skellington looked up at Jack and cast him an admonishing gaze. "That's for the cookies, you thief!" she chuckled, giving his noes a playful poke.  
  
"Thief!" gasped her son theatrically. "I didn't do a thing!"  
  
"Well, I think it's only fair that your sister gets a bit of a treat, too." Mrs. Skellington took a few raisins into her delicate hand and offered them to her daughter. Amelia took them eagerly, looking at the little men formed as her mother pulled the excess dough away. She grinned and popped a few of the raisins into her mouth. Their mother was a pleasant woman of delicate build. She had feathery brown hair touched ever so lightly with gray that she wore back in a loose bun, twinkling brown eyes which Jack had inherited, and a loving smile that matched her disposition.  
  
"So, we're going to get the tree today?" Jack asked, picking up one of the finished gingerbread men and looking it over. Mrs. Skellington nodded with a smile.  
  
"Ah! That reminds me! I need to get the decorations out!" declared their mother.  
  
Mrs. Skellington's daughter's face positively lit up. Everyone in the house had a special Christmas ornament. Her father had a rocking horse that was carved out of wood and painted in red and black while her mother had a dove made of blown glass. Jack's ornament was a many pointed star made of silver, and as for Amelia, the little girl had a ballerina made of china with a tutu of pink lace.  
  
Jack smiled at his sister, noting her dreamy look and guessing what she must have been thinking of. His eyes fell back onto the gingerbread man he was holding and he startled slightly. The young man's heart leapt to his throat and suddenly the laughter from his nightmare returned to him. What had been a happy little cookie a moment ago, had twisted into a miniature monster. It's delicate orange-peel smile had transformed into a mouth of jagged yellow teeth, it's little peppermint drop eyes, made lovingly by Mrs. Skellington, were now dangerous little slivers glaring up at Jack menacingly. Fascinated and horrified by the metamorphosis, the boy found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the monstrous confection. To his further shock, the gingerbread man's eyes narrowed and it's mouth pulled intself into a smirk. Thin as the hum of a bee's wings, he heard a tiny voice in the back of his mind, the gingerbread man's cruel mouth moving along with the words.  
  
"He's going to get you..."  
  
"W-what..?" the youth tried to answer, his voice coming in a choked whisper.  
  
"He's going to get you!" hissed the gingerbread man again, his smirk growing wider. This time it didn't stop, though. It continued to say it, chanting it over and over again, the voice becoming louder and clearer each time until it died off into that revolting laughter from before. Jack's hands shivered and the gingerbread man's head snapped off suddenly, falling to the floor in an explosion of crumbs.  
  
"Jack?"  
  
The boy startled slightly and looked up from the broken cookie. His mother had her hands on her hips and Amelia was blinking up at him, chewing on her raisins. "Well, I suppose now that the head's gone you and your sister can split it. After you're done, why don't you get bundled up and head out with your father for the tree?"  
  
Her son nodded a bit numbly, still holding the cookie in a shaking hand. Amelia started to reach for the confection but Jack quickly snatched it away from her. "No," he said quietly. "Not this one." He then crushed it in his hand, much to the surprise of the room's other two occupants. Without another word, the young man turned and left the kitchen.  
  
"What is happening to me?" he murmured, rubbing the side of his head and leaning against the hallway wall. "Am I going mad..?" Jack frowned and shook his head, looking at his bandaged hand. No. Whatever this was, he resolved, he wasn't going to let it defeat him.  
  
* * *  
  
"What do you think of this one?"  
  
"It's bare on one side!"  
  
"You know, if you don't choose ONE of these, we're going to have to go without a tree this year."  
  
Amelia smiled up at her brother and father, her little mitten-covered hands buried in the branches of a snow-patched evergreen. "I know," she said, "but I want it to be perfect."  
  
Jack chuckled and shook his head, but couldn't blame her. After all, he'd acted the same way when he was a child. Finding the perfect tree for the parlor was always a joy and a vice at the same time. It was getting rather cold, though, and snow was begining to drift from the sky again in light flurries. Amelia, however, was taking her time despite the weather. This was her first time being in charge of the tree selection, after all, and she was taking it quite seriously. Rubbing her chin in a contemplative way, she scrutinized another evergreen before shaking her head and moving on to find another possible candidate.  
  
Mr. Skellington watched with as much amusement as Jack did. The siblings' father was a very tall man, sturdily built and topped with a slightly messy head of black hair that was, at the moment, gathering snow. His blue eyes seemed always to be laughing, and he wore a small beard from which a smile could very often be seen. He was currently holding a small saw and following his daughter as she darted to and fro in the evergreen patch.  
  
Quite abruptly the little girl stopped and stood in awe of a tree before her. "That one," she whispered, pointing at it and staring with saucer- sized eyes. The girl's companions flanked her and looked the tree over.  
  
"Well, I do declare! Amelia, my darling, I think you found the most beautiful tree in the patch!" exclaimed Mr. Skellington with a smile.  
  
"Indeed you did," agreed Jack, walking around the tree and grinning to his sister. "Excellent job!" Amelia blushed modestly and dug one toe into the snow.  
  
"Well, let's get this down then, shall we?" said their father, laying beside the tree's base. "Jack, you hold on to the trunk and I'll get to work."  
  
Nodding, the young man took hold of the tree's trunk and waited patiently as it shook under his father's saw. He gazed quietly into the fir tree's boughs, ready to catch it's weight when the base gave. His vision relaxed, blurring ever so slightly.  
  
Eyes.  
  
The boy quickly refocused his vision and gaped at what he saw peering out at him. Under bushy eyebrows of evergreen branches leered a pair of eyes. Under the eyes appearing just as suddenly and unexpectedly was a mouth set with teeth of jagged twigs and sticks that grinned up at him. Crawling among the teeth were centipedes and strangely colored insects that peeked up at Jack with bulging eyes or clicked their mandibles loudly. Rasping and husky, the tree's voice came. "It's only a matter of time, you know. It's inevitable!"  
  
For a moment, Jack felt frightened. But only for a moment. After that, rage quickly took him.  
  
"No."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said 'No'," Jack growled to the tree.  
  
The pine monster actually looked surprised. "What do you mean, 'No'?"  
  
"You're not going to scare me anymore. I'm quite tired of your tricks, whoever you are. I'm not afraid of you, so I suggest you leave me alone."  
  
If a fir could look flabbergasted, this one did. It's look of shock, however, was quickly replaced by one of anger. "You have no idea who you're dealing with," it hissed dangerously.  
  
This just made the youth smile. "Of course I do."  
  
The tree went back to looking surprised. "Oh?"  
  
"My Christmas tree."  
  
And with that, Mr. Skellington finished his sawing, and the tree fell into Jack's waiting hands.  
  
Meanwhile, Oogie Boogie looked fit to pop his stitches. The bogey man glared hard at a pair of dice he was holding and heaved them angrily at a skeleton strung up on the wall. After striking its skull, the dice hit a table below it, showing up snake-eyes. No one...especially a pathetic mortal...was unafraid of the bogey man.  
  
"So," rumbled the monster, "Mr. High Roller wants to play hardball, eh?"  
  
Oogie turned his attention to the myriad of torture devices lining his walls and smiled a horrible, insect-filled smile. "Well, if he wants to play for keeps, that's just fine with me." 


	6. Chapter 6 Abduction

Chapter 6  
  
Abduction  
  
"Pretty," Amelia cooed, cradling her china ballerina in her hands.  
  
Jack smiled, his star resting by its points on his fingertips. The tree was standing in the parlor, bare and green. Tonight he and Amelia would make strings of popcorn and cranberries to drape over it's boughs. White tapers, also, would be lighted later to make it seem as though stars had settled on its branches. There would be many decorations collected over the years, ranging from delicately carved wooden birds to glossy, blown glass fruits, that would find new homes in the evergreen as they did every year. The two siblings adored them all.  
  
The older of the two, however, was a little worried that the ornaments would come to life and try to frighten him. But something inside of him, the little rebellious part of his mind which refused to be intimidated, held out and almost dared them to try anything. That part of him felt more than ready to handle any petty threats or pranks this trickster could pull. Why, the tree had backed down after the boy had showed it a bit of an attitude. If anything else tried to scare him, he'd just use the same tactic.  
  
Jack's sister looked to him with twinkling eyes. "I think it's going to be the prettiest tree ever," she said almost breathlessly, turning her gaze toward the evergreen. It was, indeed, quite lovely. Just the right size and shape without any bare sides, and just the right amount of room beneath it's lower branches for plenty of gifts.  
  
Mr. Skellington came into the parlor, his wife at his side. "Well!" he said with a smile, "who's ready to get this tree decorated?"  
  
"Oh, me!" called Amelia, jumping to her feet exictedly.  
  
"Let's open the rest of these boxes, then, shall we?"  
  
The family gathered around the small pile of decoration boxes and very carefully began removing their treasure of gleaming holiday relics. Jack could remember when they'd gotten most of them, each calling back a previous Christmas and a plethora of pleasant memories. He held up a blown glass pear and smiled a bit wistfully.  
  
"Oh no!"  
  
The youth looked up to see his mother holding a red ball, or what would have been a red ball if it wasn't broken. Mrs. Skellington sighed and dropped the broken decoration into the box. "They're all like that," she said, closing the top up. "The box must have fallen over sometime during the year."  
  
"We can't make the tree up without them," murmured Amelia, staring at the box forlornly. "It just wouldn't be the same."  
  
Jack got to his feet and flashed Amelia his silly grin. "Don't worry. Look, I'll tell you what. I'll go into town and pick up a new set. How does that sound?"  
  
"You will?" his sister said, smiling up at him. "Oh, Jack, thank you!" Amelia hopped to her feet and hugged her brother tightly.  
  
Mr. Skellington got to his feet and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a few coins and holding them out to his son. "All right, then. This should do it, but be careful. The sky's fairly clear, and I doubt it's going to snow anymore for the time being, but it's going to be dark by the time you get back."  
  
"I'll take a lantern," Jack reassured his father, taking the money extended to him. The young man went to the door, pulling on his winter bundling. As he straightened his cap and lifted the lantern from the table by the door, he turned to his family with a smile. "Don't start without me!" And with that, he went through the front door.  
  
As it closed, Amelia couldn't help but feel there was some odd finality to the click of the door. It sent a chill up her spine and she almost got up to go after him, but she shook her head and turned her attention back to the tree.  
  
Jack hummed merrily as he made his way across the snowy fields. His breath puffed out in quiet clouds before him, and a brisk wind whistled across the landscape. In the distance the sun was slowly sinking below the treeline, starting to pull it up over itself like a dark blanket. Color streaked across the few remaining clouds in the sky, staining them pink on violet and orange edged with gold. In another corner of the sky, the moon was just begining to become illuminated. Times like this made Jack catch his breath in awe.  
  
The town was perched on the horizon, a dark and angular blot against the pastel sky. Its streetlights were just begining to be lit, throwing soft, gas lamp circles to the wet, trodden cobblestones below it. Snow still sat thickly upon the rooftops like white icing, and every now and then a large clump would fall and burst on the sidewalk. Icicles were also forming on the edges of the roof, seeming to give the houses and buildings icy teeth. Jack made his way to the merchantile, reaching into his pocket and clinking to coins together softly. There was more than enough for the decorations, which, really, were just a bunch of cheap, thin glass orbs. Still, he had to admit that they did add something to the tree, and were quite lovely in their simplicity.  
  
Stepping into the merchantile, the boy smiled. The store was decked out for Christmas with it's many ornaments and toys lining the shelves. At the front desk, the merchant, Mr. Atson, was sorting pieces of jewlery on a display case. Jack waved to the man before picking up a box of the Christmas ornaments he wanted. As he drew the box away from the shelf, he heard something soft thud to the floor. Pausing and looking to see what fell, the youth found a little rag doll topped with two plaits of red yarn hair and wearing a green dress smiling up at him with a painted mouth. It's blue button eyes shone in the light as he kneeled and lifted it off the floor. Getting to his feet, he almost set it back on the shelf, but looking at it again, he smiled and decided not to.  
  
Instead, the boy came to the front desk, set down the items and pushed the money toward Mr. Atson. Amelia would love to have an early Christmas treat, thought the girl's brother, and he knew his father wouldn't mind the minute expense. The things were slipped into a bag and his change was handed to him before he out of the store.  
  
The stars had begun to come out now, and the sun had settled in for it's sleep below the rim of the world. Jack lit his lantern and paused a moment. He could head across the fields again, but it was an awfully long way and it was about to become bitterly cold. There was, however, a shortcut he could take through the woods that would have him home in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Thinking it over a bit, the boy turned to the woods and started toward home. Begining into the forest, he whistled merrily to himself, finding the tune "O Christmas Tree" ready on his lips. Darkness was just begining to creep out from behind the trees, but Jack kept his mind off of it by imagining the tree decked out in holiday splendor. Perhaps his mother would take the harpsicord and play a few carols after they were done decorating. Then the four would sit around the tree and partake of tea or cocoa together, bathed in the warm glow of the firelight and the tapers on the tree. Amelia would be so pleased with her doll. He could imagine the way her eyes would light up and the way her smile--  
  
SNAP!  
  
The young man paused and looked about the woods, drawn rather abruptly from the perfect scene in his mind and brought to the forest of shadows that was his reality.  
  
Moving his lantern in a slow circle, Jack illuminated the steadily darkening trees in an attempt to catch a glimpse of what had made the noise. Hesitating a moment, he tried calling out. "H-Hello?" He felt slightly disgusted with the bleat of a noise his voice had been reduced to. Checking his surroundings once again, the boy decided that the twig was probably broken under the weight of snow on one of the trees before moving on.  
  
But it was no good. The damage had been done. Making his way through the trees, Jack found that he was unable to escape into a more comfortable place in his mind. He was stuck in the nighttime forest, and would be until he made it home.  
  
He began to experience an acute decline in nerve.  
  
As he walked through the woods in the darkness, the youth tried very hard to concentrate on the warm circle of lamplight falling on the patches of snow and bare ground. He knew these woods like the back of his hand, true, but in the night, they seemed to come alive. Worse, though, was that his nightmare seemed to return to haunt him. Now and then he could swear he saw the tree branches reach out to sieze him.  
  
He staggered suddenly as a root caught his sock. Jack nearly dropped the items he was holding, but he held them tight and knelt to free his garment. His hands quivered slightly as he set his lamp down in the snow. "Pull yourself together, Jack," the boy muttered, uncatching his sock from the root.  
  
"Oh gracious, yes!" boomed a voice from behind him. "No good havin' you all in pieces!"  
  
Jack's head snapped upward, looking about for the source of the voice, and quite nearly fainted dead away when he did. Behind the young man, towering over him ten or twelve feet, perhaps even more, was the most terrifying abomination he'd ever laid eyes on. A horrible, bloated creature covered in burlap, edges puckered and stitched together with unnaturally colored insects squirming around it's terrible, grinning mouth.  
  
"After all, that takes so much fun outta my job," smirked the monstrosity.  
  
Oogie Boogie's target leapt to his feet, still clutching his bag and gaping at the ghoul with wide eyes. "N-no," he gasped, taking an uneasy step backward.  
  
"Y'know, this wouldn't be so hard on you if you hadn't been such a stubborn little pipsqueak earlier," snarled the bogey man. His mouth twisted back into a grin. "You're comin' with me, kid. The folks back home...they got big plans for you." Oogie began to reach toward the youth.  
  
Fear gripped Jack's heart and he took off running like a jack rabbit through the trees. Branches whipped past him, ripping at his skin and his clothing, but he didn't even seem to notice their sting. Instead, he continued to run, blinded by fear, through the woods. Nothing mattered anymore but getting away from this creature and into his house. Yes, his house. Warmth and light and welcome, loving arms to enclose around him and reassure him. Tell him this was all just some silly dream brought on by walking through the woods at night. Admonish him for doing so. They were going to decorate the tree tonight, so he couldn't be dragged away by this...this thing! It couldn't be! It wasn't possible! Nightmares and bogey men didn't come to life! Then, chilling and penetrating, the creature's laugh, the laugh from Jack's horrifying visions, rolled through the trees.  
  
"This isn't happening," the boy hissed between breaths.  
  
He stopped and leaned against a tree, gasping for air. His heart throbbed in his head and his lungs didn't seem to pull enough air in. Muscles burning and aching, his eyes darted to and fro among the dark trees, searching for the demon pursuing him. Jack was faster than this monster, so all he had to do was outdistance it. Unfortunately, he didn't suspect that his foe had planned ahead.  
  
An all too familiar sting suddenly manifested itself on his neck. Jack let out a strangled cry and his free hand flew to the stinging sensation, and he crushed the insect that was causing it. He held his hand up and through the dimness he could make out the creature's remains crumpled and staining his glove. Too late...he could already feel the numbness creeping through him.  
  
"No," the boy croaked softly, taking a few uneasy steps forward. The youth was struck suddenly in the back of the head and he fell forward to his knees, dropping the bag. Glass balls tumbled out of it into the snow, and the little ragdoll bounced onto a patch of bare ground, joined shortly by Jack. Groaning in protest to the drowsy feeling overcoming him, he turned his gaze to the dark form looming over him. As his heavy lids began to sink over his eyes, Jack stared groggily at the little doll smiling to him and the decorations nestled in the snow. "Amelia," he sighed out. A black pool of unconciousness spread out before him in his mind and he fell into it.  
  
Grinning cruelly, Oogie Boogie hefted his prize up and threw him over one shoulder. Crunching across the snow and glass, the bogey man began to make his way home. 


	7. Chapter 7 I Am The Pumpkin King

Chapter 7  
  
I Am The Pumpkin King  
  
Oogie Boogie glared scornfully at the lanky figure draped over the center of his giant roulette wheel. He circled the young boy like a wolf, now and then leaning forward for a closer look, or half acting on thoughts of beating on his prone, unconcious form. Little fool. Had he honestly thought Oogie hadn't put any planning into this scheme? The bogey man snorted in disdain. He'd known if the human were to run, the monster had little chance of catching up to him, so he'd laid traps in the form of his loyal little insects throughout the area near Jack's dwelling. Granted, he'd crammed every last one of them back into the great void of his mouth, but that was besides the point. Now he was looking over the prize he had dragged back to his lair and pondering what he would do to it.  
  
So many options lay before the monstrosity. Oogie let his hollow gaze play across the neon-stained impliments of torture that hung along his walls and smiled crookedly. Ah, so many methods, so little time. He looked back to Jack. Oogie Boogie had stripped away the heavy winter coverings, so the youth was dressed in his pinstripe suit. The young man's long limbs dangled limply around him, making him look a bit like a great spider with it's leg's splayed out. His dark hair was matted and wet from the melted snow. It now hung in clumps or was plastered against his pale skin, framing a face almost child-like in it's innocence. Every now and then his expression would contort or his eyes would roll rapidly beneath their lids as the fever dreams induced by the insect's bite burned in his mind.  
  
The ghoul found it hard to believe that this little stripling would soon rule over Halloween as the master of the pumpkin patch and king of terror. Boogie actually felt a twinge of jealousy in his black heart over the matter. Why did Halloween require a pathetic mortal for a sacrifice? Oogie Boogie could easily take up the reigns of Pumpkin King himself. If the burlap-covered fright were crowned, the world would know what real terror was. Instead of confining the horror of Halloween to one night, he would stretch it throughout the entire year! Mortal screams would echo around the globe and no human would ever feel safe from the terror of Oogie Boogie's reign. That was the proper way to fuel Halloween's starving spirit. Not letting the blood of this skinny little twit.  
  
That still, of course, didn't take away the sadistic pleasure of doing away with the boy as painfully and horribly as possible.  
  
If they knew, the council would never let Halloweentown's social pariah go through with his plan of breaking Jack and killing him mercilessly, but as long as they got their Pumpkin King, it didn't matter.  
  
Leering at the unconcious form of the soon-to-be Pumpkin King, the boy's abductor began to ponder his options.  
  
The first thing that Jack was aware of as conciousness leaked back into his mind was the scent of something like sulphur and smoldering coals burning his nostrils and stinging his partially opened eyes. He moaned softly and lifted his half-numb hand to his wet forehead, trying to brush the clumps of soaked hair out of his face. Where was he? His vision was still blurry and unfocused, but he seemed to be turning in a circle ever so slowly and he could feel himself being supported from about his shoulders to the middle of his thighs. The rest of him appeared to be dangling around the support and it made his back and neck ache horribly. Then again, there was very little of him that didn't ache horribly.  
  
With a bit of effort, he managed to sit up and found that he had been stretched across what looked to be a small, round table made of wood. His eyes were still adjusting to the strange lighting in the room, but it seemed that the table along with the floor was spinning slowly. All around him were unnatural flashes of light and color. Jack had never encountered such colors before. They were extremely bright and positively screaming into his eyes. Their garishness seemed to worsen the headache clawing at his brain, though closing his eyes didn't seem to help the pain either. Then, like a steel ball rolling through his mind came the laughter again. Jack froze and his eyes tracked around the room to try and identify the laughter's source. It took a bit for his vision to adjust, but eventually his gaze fell on IT.  
  
The creature loomed to the left of him, smirking smugly with tiny antennae and insect legs twitching and scrabbling at the edges of it's mouth. Jack's first reaction was fear. It gripped his heart and made it race, beads of sweat beginning to gather along his brow. But the fear came mingled with anger. It burned away the terror he felt, and seemed to give him strength and resolve. Eyes narrowing at the burlap horror before him, Jack found himself just as surprised as Oogie was when the first words from his mouth came as, "How dare you."  
  
"What was that?" the bogey man inquired, his smirk turning into a sneer.  
  
Jack felt another surge of anger well inside of him. He found his voice again and this time there was more power in it. "How DARE you," he repeated, getting to his feet, though a bit uneasily. "How dare you abduct me from my home and bring me here!" More sure of himself, the youth took a step toward Boogie. "You had no right."  
  
Oogie looked stunned for a moment, but slowly the look turned to one of amusement and he cackled roughly, pitching to and fro in the throes of his jubilance. "Well, well, well! Lookee here! Mr. 98-pound-stick-figure seems to have grown a spine! Ain't that just dandy?" His words dissolved back into his laughter. "You know, you're going to be a lot of fun to break," smirked the ghoul, lumbering toward his prey.  
  
Jack stood his ground, glowering up at Oogie Boogie through piercing, dark eyes.  
  
The monster leaned forward, his burlap mouth grinning widely. "I'm gonna make you scream. Make you BEG me to do you in!"  
  
"No."  
  
Oogie eyed his victim.  
  
"You won't," Jack said simply, not breaking his gaze.  
  
"Oohhhh! Is that a CHALLENGE, little man?" boomed the spook.  
  
"Just the truth."  
  
Jack had no idea such nerve could be born in the boiling cauldron of rage and hatred that churned somewhere in the deep recesses of his soul. The heat of it pressed against the insides of his skin and rushed through his veins like fire despite the fact his heart fluttered in fear and something in the back of his mind was screaming for him to run. He was terrified, yes. But something wouldn't allow this thing to bully him anymore.  
  
The boy's abductor was laughing now, his cloth-covered frame almost threatening to burst at the stitches. Now THIS was rich! Boogie had never come across a victim that had actually stood up to him before. Most simply cowered in terror and screamed for mercy or sobbed uncontrollably. But not Mr. Pumpkin King! No! HE actually had the nerve to-  
  
Oogie's thoughts were interrupted abruptly as he felt a sting of pain snap across his stomach. The monster's laughter became a loud choke as he staggered backward, insects spilling from his mouth. Almost losing his balance, the ghoul turned narrow, empty eyes toward his abducted prey.  
  
Jack stood, glaring defiantly at Oogie Boogie, his belt stretched between his hands.  
  
Unbelievable.  
  
The amusment etched across the bogey man's horrible face was quickly scratched away, and any thoughts bordering on mercy for his victim were burned out of his mind.  
  
"You little BRAT!" snarled the fiend, his arm lashing out and striking Jack squarely in the chest.  
  
The next moment seemed, for both of them, to stretch itself across an eon.  
  
Though defiant and ready to defend himself, Jack was still a bit disorientated from his feverish dreams. This was only amplified by the thick, noxious fumes that rose from the sunken, boiling cauldron behind the youth and permeated the room. It didn't help, either, that Oogie Boogie had misjudged his strength in that moment of anger.  
  
A strangled yelp escaped Jack and he staggered backward, dropping his belt. His head spun like a whirligig and his body lurched to keep up with the movement. The boy was vaguely aware of a boiling flash of gold before his body was enveloped in searing pain.  
  
If he could have screamed, he would have. As it was, he wasn't sure he even had any throat left to scream with. White hot pain flooded through every part of the young man, a sort he had no inkling existed before now. Impossible, heart bursting agony boiling the very blood in his veins and exploding across his mind in incredible colors. He couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. If Jack was moving, he could no longer feel it. For the boy, existance was excruciating pain.  
  
The world began to darken and the pain began to become distant. Numb. His body had divorced his mind and left him as little more than a drifting conciousness. One would think some mercy would grace him and just end it, but at the same time, he was terrified of the maw of oblivion that surely gaped before him.  
  
This was his end.  
  
He'd always imagined it so differently. Laying in bed, as an old man, many years from now. He would have lived a life of high education and close family. Probably with grandchildren. He'd always imagined it so peaceful.  
  
What will happen at home? Life will go on. Without him. Amelia will grow up and leave home. Mother and Father will grow older. The world will continue to turn, but he'll never set a foot on it again. The world has already shrugged him away with a cold indifference, turning to attend to the business of the living. A void began to stretch between Jack and the life he knew, and it created a sickening pit of horror in what was left of him.  
  
Light.  
  
Orange light, at that.  
  
Just a pinpoint at first, but it grew. Soon, where once was heat and darkness, there was an expanse of warm, orange light and the soft scent of something that was almost like pumpkin pie and cold, autumn- smelling wind.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
To Jack's surprise, he was actually answered.  
  
The voice was rich and warm and seemed to come from all around him. "Jack Skellington."  
  
"Would you mind telling me what's going on exactly? Am I dead? Is this Heaven or Hell? Am I dreaming again?"  
  
"None. You're a very special individual, Jack."  
  
"If I'm not any of those, could I please go back home?" the youth inquired.  
  
"I'm afraid not. You've been chosen."  
  
"Chosen? To do what?"  
  
"To save the unlives of hundreds. To support a spirit who has existed since time out of mind with your blood. To rule as king."  
  
"If it's quite all right, I'd advise you to find someone else. I don't want to be king of anything. Just let me go home."  
  
"It's too late for that, Jack. You and I are already tied. In a way, we always have been. Our bonds are those of destiny. Now, prepare yourself to meet the fate that awaits you."  
  
Nothing could have possibly prepared him for the onslaught that came next. There was no pain, or even mild discomfort. No physical injury at all. Instead, the attack was spreading itself silently and relentlessly across his mind. And there wasn't a thing that Oogie could do that put the fear of God into Jack more than the very obliteration of his being.  
  
It wasn't apparent at first. For quite some time, Jack didn't notice it, his mind too busy darting to and fro, flitting from thoughts of escape, to death and to his family. By the time he noticed the fog clouding his head, it was far too late.  
  
Memories of a man with a sturdy build and a beard...twinking blue eyes...so kind. A woman with soft, caring hands. Quite delicate and with a warm smile. There was a tree. An evergreen standing in a parlor. Why on Earth was a tree growing inside of a house? Most importantly, there was a girl there. Young. Perhaps six or seven. Dark curls, soft, blue eyes that twinkled like starlight.  
  
Why these images?  
  
What was he doing before this, anyway?  
  
"You are Jack Skellington."  
  
Yes, that's right.  
  
"And you are the Pumpkin King."  
  
Somewhere in the back of his mind, what was left of the human he had been screamed out in protest.  
  
A flash of broken red glass. A painted smile. A fir tree standing in the center of a parlor. A little girl smiling up at him and holding out a paper snowflake. Amelia.  
  
Amelia.  
  
The name echoed down the halls of Jack's brain before he blinked a hollow eye and tucked it away into his subconcious.  
  
* * *  
  
Oogie Boogie felt dread ripple up through his squirming insides. He hadn't meant to throw the fool into the cauldron! There probably wasn't even anything left of the little twerp! The boy's bones hadn't even come to the top yet!  
  
Boogie sighed and leaned against a tilting table that perched on the edge of the boiling pool of thick, golden liquid. Now he had to go out and find a whole new victim. What a pain! A smirk tugged slightly at his burlap mouth. Oh well. At least he'd make a nice stew.  
  
The bogey man was just turning to fetch some utensils and serve himself up some of the cauldron's contents when he noticed a slight bulge begining to rise above the bubbling surface. Maybe the brat's bones were floating to the top after all.  
  
If Oogie had only known just how accurate that statement was.  
  
One could almost aliken it to a phoenix rising from it's ashes, the birth of the Pumpkin King. Oogie watched in a mix of shock and awe as Jack Skellington re-emerged from the cauldron. Looking at him now, glowing yellow goo slipping down his thin, impossibly tall form, the fiend would have never guessed he was the youth from before.  
  
He bore no resemblence to the boy the monster had knocked in. It seemed that some physical features about the boy still remained, but had been exaggerated almost grotesquely. This thing was tall, like the boy had been, but his proportions were stretched to impossible lengths. Thin, spidery arms that seemed too long for him were folded across his blanched chest, ending in spindly-fingered, bony hands. He wore a pinstripe suit, but this one had been strangely twisted; it's pinstripes uneven and it's bowtie changed into a bat that stretched crooked wings across the former human's shoulders. The young man's dark eyes had turned into the sockets of a skeleton, their hollows seeming to be a pair of windows into a horrible, black void. Most unnerving of all, though, was his smile. Where the human's grin had been silly and a bit charming, this one was downright frightening; stretching almost around this skeleton's skull with macabre glee. Oogie Boogie found himself unable to move as that horrible grin spoke to him.  
  
"I am Jack Skellington."  
  
The burlap monster could only stare.  
  
"I am The Pumpkin King." 


	8. Epilogue

Epilouge  
  
Halloween 1970  
  
Amelia Skellington smiled to herself as she watched her grandchildren, clad in ghoulish costumes of ghosts and witches, go bouncing off down the street, laughing merrily. Ah, Halloween again. Still her favorite holiday after all these years.  
  
Still her favorite since that Christmas so long ago.  
  
How long had it been? Sixty? Seventy years? Ever since then, Christmas left only bitter feelings in her heart.  
  
Oh, Jack.  
  
Amelia tucked a wrinkled hand into the pocket of her sweater and pulled out a little rag doll. It wore a slightly tattered dress, it's once bright hair faded and it's cloth worn thin from years of loving cuddles. None of it's stitches were original anymore and it's face only carried faint stains where it's once adorably painted features had been.  
  
His last gift to her. Found amongst the broken bits of glass Christmas ornaments in the woods.  
  
She had kept it through these long decades as a tangible memory of her older brother. Not as though she needed any reminders. His face was still painted in her mind, and nothing could ever make it fade. If she closed her eyes, she could still see his darling, lopsided grin.  
  
The old woman sighed and turned her dim vision toward the window. Lovely autumn night. It was a surprisingly warm October this year, and the trees were still brightly colored. Fiery oranges and reds. The blackness of the sky was pinned back by the stars, and a lopsided moon cast it's mottled glow through the trees. Taking a seat beside the window looking out over the lawn, Amelia let her eyes, still blue as sapphire, wander across the October landscape.  
  
What was that?  
  
Amelia blinked rapidly and fumbled for her glasses. Out of the corner of her eye! Something in the trees! Pushing her spectacles up her nose, the woman rose from her seat, ignoring the creaking of her bones and scanned the yard. She looked for a very long time over the grass and into the shadowy forms of the trees before giving up and dropping back into her seat with a heavy heart.  
  
Briefly, on the edge of her vision, she thought she'd seen it. On a blanched face, the silly, friendly grin of her brother. 


End file.
